“The Blue Hotel” is either a very long short story or a fairly short novella. Either way, it was roundly met with universal rejection by every periodical to which it was initially submitted by Stephen Crane. Popular publishers of the time from Harper’s to Scribner’s took a pass and one of the most widely subscribed magazines in American history—The Atlantic Monthly—was only willing to take a chance on it under the condition that Crane also agree to submit a full-length work to its book publishing operation. Rejecting that offer, Crane instead opted for the no-strings-attached alternative of the somewhat less high profile Collier’s Weekly where it appeared in two installments near the end of 1898.
Although “The Blue Hotel” has since gone on to enjoy a legacy nearly equal to his signature work of fiction—The Red Badge of Courage—it is easy in retrospect to understand the reluctance to publish and the willingness to reject a noted author. The story itself is strange and so is the manner in which it is told. Modernist ambiguity and postmodern satisfaction with irony as the driving characteristic were still decades away from defining American literature; readers of the time expected a sense of completeness even among this new breed of writers attacking topics from the perspective of realism and naturalism.
While the narrative is, indeed, rather suitably tied up by the end, it is not the actual trajectory of events which lend the story its lasting power. The publications rejecting Crane’s story were for the most part seeking tales in which consequences follow effect with the expectation that the effect is a consequence of rational explanation. Nothing that takes places within the confines of the strangely blue hotel sticking out like a sore thumb among the surrounding gray Nebraska countryside seems particularly guided by rationality. Even the usual caveat—it is following its own logic—does not hold up very well to scrutiny. The effect of the arrival of three strangers on a train has consequences which make sense, but without providing the information necessary for understanding the previous consequences leading that effect, the narrative takes on an increasingly bizarre and disquieting tone.
In the year following the publication of “The Blue Hotel” Stephen Crane published a very short poem titled “A Man said to the Universe.” Here is that poem in its entirety:
A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”
The evolution of this pessimistic yet ironically liberating philosophy running concurrent with the process of composing, submitting, dealing with rejection and ultimately publishing “The Blue Hotel” cannot be coincidental.
